Playing with Fire
by beckyofdownton
Summary: Set during Thomas' time at the Downton Hospital, this slow-moving short story follows Thomas' day-to-day turmoil as he attempts to solve the puzzle that is Lt. Edward Courtenay.
1. Chapter 1

"Corporal Barrow, read it back to me." his voice whispered, barely audible.

Thomas Barrow, though the soldier's voice was small, cherished whatever small sound he managed to make. Thomas knew that Edward could barely bring himself to sit up in the morning let alone speak to another living person. Smiling to himself, Thomas shook his inky black hair out of his eyes and smirked.

"You really haven't told me anything yet." Thomas replied gently. Edward was prone to irritability and his sense of humour, though greatly revitalized under Thomas' care, was virtually non-existant.

"Well, you've got 'Dear Alec', right?" Edward shot back, running a hand over his forehead. Thomas had learned to back off when Edward got like this. It was late and Edward had taken to refusing to get out of bed in the morning.

"Okay. Here's what we have:  
'Dear Alec,  
I regret to inform you that I will be missing-'  
That's it, Edward. How about a walk?" Thomas read, glancing up playfully at Edward.

Edward turned to face the direction of the door. "Well..."

"Come on, Edward, I've been dying for a cigarette all day and we haven't gotten anywhere." Thomas interrupted. He knew that throwing in a bit of guilt would get Edward up and on his feet. A bit of tough love couldn't hurt.

"Alright." Edward replied, reaching out to find Thomas' knee. Squeezing it gently, Thomas' breath caught in his throat.

Thomas raised an eyebrow. Cheeky.

"Come on, help me up then." Edward said, reaching out with his other hand for Thomas's shoulder. Thomas couldn't stand seeing Edward grope around so helplessly, so, clasping his right hand in Edward's left, he helped Edward stand up. For a perfect moment, the two men's shoulders pressed together. Thomas looked up to meet Edward's eye, but found that Edward's expression was somewhere much more distant than Thomas' silly hopes.

The courtyard was a marvelous, lush green, but Thomas didn't comment. It was cruel to comment on things with senses Edward couldn't use. Instead, Thomas mentioned the warmth.

"Summer's coming on us now, Lieutenant Courtenay." Thomas said, feeling the tiniest hint of sun on his face. His favourite time of the year, though he was not wont to comment on such things, was when the sun just began to feel warm once it came out from behind the English cloud.

"Is it." Edward responded dryly, his expression perfectly vacant as he clung to Thomas's forearm. "And it's Edward outside, Thomas. Inside you can be as fancy as you damn well plesae."

"It most certainly is." Thomas replied, ignoring Edward's last words and allowing a small smile to reach his lips as he traversed the yard.

A comfortable silence spread over the two soldiers, arm-in-arm on the first warm day of Spring; Edward was not a man of many words and Lord knows Thomas had fewer. The two men spent their afternoons in largely the same way - Thomas eschewing his duties and Edward being reluctantly walked throughout the yards. It was nice, but Thomas knew it wouldn't be long before Edward was moved to a new establishment where his long-term recovery would be undertaken.

"You know, Edward," Thomas smiled, sitting the two of them down on a marble bench out of sight of the prying hospital windows, "You still haven't told me who Alec is exactly."

Thomas had been dying to know who this Alec was to whom Edward had been narrating letters ever since their particular ritual had begun. The question burned every so often in the back of Thomas' mind, especially when Edward had asked Thomas to re-word the same letter nearly ten times since they had sat down to right it. Thomas was petrified with curiosity, held in limbo by the thought that this man could be a brother, uncle, cousin, friend... lover.

Thomas saw this Alec as the key to Edward's innermost secrets. Thomas had been able to build some kind of friendship based in camaraderie and care but really, he knew he was only scraping the surface of who Edward was. Ever since the bandages had come off and it had been obvious that Edward was both blind and scarred for life, Edward hadn't let anybody in. Not even Thomas.

Edward rolled his eyes and turned to face Thomas, his familiar rakish grin coupled with a raised brow. Thomas had always imagined that Edward would have been more comfortable at sea than on land with that rougeish look about him. "Look, it's not important."

Thomas felt his face growing red and was, for the first time, glad that Edward couldn't see him. Not important?

"If he's important to you, then..." Thomas trailed off. He had been careful before in his diction, but somehow the way he had phrased that seemed improper.

"He isn't." Edward said finally, as if this were the end of the conversation.

"Oh, well," Thomas said, his voice loaded with sarcasm, "I guess that explains why you've narrated the same sentence to me for the past two weeks."

"Thomas, if I wanted to explain to you my life story I would. Does my life before this," he motioned moodily to his eyes, "even matter? Why does it matter so much to you?"

Thomas immediately felt icy cold, regretting his sarcasm instantly. Edward's words cut through him and he found he was at a complete loss for words. He had been so dedicated to Edward's recovery, been his only friend and this is the treatment he gets?

His hands immediately began fumbling in his jacket looking for a cigarette without his permission.

"It matters, Edward. It just does." Thomas said quietly feigning nonchalance as he brought the cigarette to his mouth, eyebrows raised.

The silence that fell was decidedly awkward and, thankfully, Thomas spotted Nurse Crawley walking with another patient.

"Nurse Crawley will take you back to your room when you're ready, Lieutenant Courtenay." Thomas told the man coldly, barely even looking at the soldier before walking back towards the hospital.


	2. Chapter 2

Shoes sticking in the freshly thawed grass, Thomas made his way back towards the hospital. As soon as he had left Edward he had regretted it. It was as if Thomas could feel the weight of Edward's sadness on his back with every step he took and he, maybe egotistically, thought that he was only worsening Edward's fickle dark moods.

_Edward is like a flame_, _beautiful yet mercurial,_ Thomas thought, _and I am the moth drawn to him_.

It was an oddly poetic thought for Thomas, especially in such a state as he was in now, but it fit. Everything about Edward was changeable as the winds - smiling and happy one second and then suddenly guarded and withdrawn the next. Thomas was forever walking on eggshells, testing the boundaries of Edward's moods more and more every day, fearing the next word he said would be the one to send the soldier back into despair.

_He's like playing with fire_, Thomas waxed poetical to himself, trying to ignore the dull pangs of guilt growing in his stomach, _it's all fun and warm until you burn yourself._

Thomas pointedly looked away from Edward's empty bed as he crossed the hospital. The afternoon was starting to wane and a dull ochre light filled the large, stone room as if everything were perfectly normal. As if the war had not torn this continent limb from limb, as if every man in this room were not at death's door.

Shaking his head against the bitterly grim thoughts filling his head, Thomas made his way down the dimly-lit corridor and to the front door. Turning the knob, he made to go outside before he heard somebody come in and clear their throat.

"Thomas, you shouldn't leave him like that." the soft, caring voice of Nurse Sybil Crawley echoed against the walls.

Thomas clenched his jaw. He didn't know whether the emotion surging up from within him was annoyance or contrition and so he turned to face her, drawing a cigarette from within his coat. Thomas had always been an expert at feigning composure.

"He was in no mood for my company." Thomas replied coolly, lighting his cigarette casually.

Sybil's face immediately turned stoney and, marching forwards, seized the cigarette from between Thomas' lips and shot him a look he wouldn't soon forget. Thomas felt strangely cold as he realized that Sybil was probably the only person in this world who could see right through him.

"You know that's not true." Sybil said, extinguishing the cigarette with a flourish. "And if I ever catch you lighting a cigarette in this hospital, Sergeant Barrow, you'll be out on the street so fast your head will spin."

"They're good for your health, you know." Thomas said, an air of farce hanging in his words as he admired the woman's nerve.

Sybil narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the man before her as if he were on trial for murder.

"It's not his fault that he feels that way, Thomas." Sybil replied, abandoning the title as her face softened, "We're the only people who care about him in this whole world; you can't just walk out on him."

Thomas swallowed hard, his thoughts immediately jumping to that Alec figure from before. He fought hard against the urge to argue with Sybil and to dismiss what she said as folly but realized he wasn't able to bring the lie to his lips. Not to her, anyways.

"I know." Thomas replied anticlimactically, his fingers itching for a cigarette under these tense circumstances.

"Tomorrow, Thomas, you're going to apologize for whatever happened because I know that it was your fault and that the subject of the argument was not important." Sybil stated frankly, looking Thomas in the eye with a look of complete and total confidence.

Thomas flared up at Sybil's choice of words. _It's not important_. Those words had followed him from the bench with Edward all the way out to here. They circled inside his head incessantly like midge flies on a balmy evening and he would never be able to get rid of them.

"I assure you, Nurse Crawley," Thomas said, an echo of a smirk hanging about his face, "That it most certainly was not important. It will be rectified in the morning."

Sybil, looking content, nodded.

"Your Ladyship." Thomas said, inclining his head toward her and stepping out into the evening wondering how much Sybil really knew.

"Sergeant Barrow?" a voice called out the minute Thomas set foot in the hospital.

* * *

The sun had barely risen and already Thomas had been laden with paperwork. According to Doctor Clarkson, the hospital was becoming overcrowded and it was of the utmost importance that Thomas sign off on reports for each of the patients deemed well enough to reintegrate into society. Thomas, of course, did not hold the last say in whether a patient stayed or left but he was required to sign reports written by the nurses attesting to their validity.

The bureau at which he worked was already untidy but once Thomas reached it and dumped his workload on top of it, it was downright horrific. Papers strewn everywhere, fountain pens leaking onto expensive leather, glasses stained with the ghost of whiskey past... Thomas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Today would be a long day.

It was half past noon before Thomas had worked his way through most of the reports. Of course, the end of the week meant a heavier workload than usual and, seeing as Thomas had shirked most of his managerial duties to be with Edward, he had to sift through much more than the standard amount for a Friday afternoon. The room was filled with a blue haze of cigarette smoke and he had to squint to see the time on the wall clock. When he had ascertained the time, he wasn't sure whether he was excited or frightened of the prospect of going out to meet Edward. Tucking a notepad and a fountain pen in the crook of his arm, he made his way out into the large intensive care ward.

Lying, just as he always did, as if he cared about nothing at all, long limbs pushing the limits of the narrow bed, was Edward Courtenay. A muscle in Thomas' jaw instinctively tightened at the sight of the blinded soldier and he felt an odd feeling wash over him; he couldn't remember the last time he had to sit down and really apologise to somebody.

"Afternoon, Lieutenant Courtenay." Thomas said coolly, careful not to betray in his voice any of the nerves lingering just underneath the surface.

Edward looked genuinely surprised to hear Thomas' voice and this saddened Thomas slightly. Breaking the momentary awkwardness, Thomas glanced up quickly and noticed Nurse Crawley across the room look suddenly away as if she had been watching. One eyebrow raised, Thomas pulled out the wooden chair next to Edward's bed and sat down.

"About yesterday..." Thomas began, leaning forward on his knees, arms crossed at the elbows. He knew neither of them wanted to broach subject, and Thomas felt exceedingly maladroit sitting across from Edward. He instead turned his attention to the young man's face, watching as the corners of Edward's mouth drooped slightly. Thomas had noted that Edward had started to betray his emotions in his face, something that he had hardly ever done when he had first arrived at the hospital. Whether this change was due to his growing out of touch with his own facial expressions, or whether he had just grown trusting of and comfortable enough with Thomas to emote was impossible to say.

"'S fine."Edward murmured, waving a hand as if to dismiss the topic.

"It's just that I..." Thomas trailed off. He quickly realized that he had no idea what he was about to say. Looking up at Edward through his curtain of jet black hair, he watched as Edward's eyebrows raised just slightly in curiosity. Thomas had never been allowed to watch a man's face before as he did now. Edward cleared his throat and Thomas realized that, even without being able to actually see him, Edward had felt Thomas' stare.

Sitting straight up in his chair suddenly, Thomas pulled the notepad out from under his arm. This was one of those moments where he knew he was playing with fire. On one hand, the situation could go better than planned and he could be warmed by Edward's low-burning flame or Thomas could be singed by the sudden flaring up triggered by a few choice words.

"Fancy a letter then, Lieutenant Courtenay?" Thomas asked casually, uncapping the pen and scratching it a few times on the crisp white paper to test the ink flow.

A quick, dark look passed over Edward's eyes as he heard the honorific.

"Damnit, Thomas, can't you..." Edward shot, turning sharply to face Thomas.

"No, I can't." Thomas interjected smoothly, drawing arcs across the page in long, fluid motions.

"Damn you, Thomas." Edward hissed.

"Oh, but it's _Sergeant _Thomas to you." Thomas quipped, a small smile playing across his lips as he glanced over at Edward.

To his complete amazement, Edward chuckled. It was a tiny, furtive laugh but it filled the tiny space between them like nothing ever had before. Thomas felt a flutter in his stomach as he watched the smile fade from Edward's face.

Thomas was definitely glad he had left the office today.


	3. Chapter 3

_The dark interior of the church was momentarily illuminated by a violent burst of lightning. The light caught every crack and seam in the crumbling walls and haunted it with luminescence. Though the outside of the small church was being hammered by the oncoming gale, the interior was dry and warm. They had gone to great lengths to meet here and thankfully, the roof hadn't given out yet._

_Amongst the scattered debris in the church's main nave were a pair of rifles - a Gewehr 98 and a well-worn Lee Enfield - discarded hurriedly but not without care. Their shadows were painted against the wall by the small fire burning brightly in the centre of the room._

_Painted also was the picture of two young men huddled together near the fire, sides pressed together, reading a threadbare copy of a tour guide to London. Speaking to one another in German in low, soft voices, the taller of the two traced his finger along the long line of the Thames river._

_"Here." he spoke, indicating London Bridge on the map. The other man's eyes lit up in excitement._

_"Oh, will I really go there with you?" he asked, turning his large brown eyes upwards._

_"Yes, we'll see it together." the taller man replied, the expression on his face softening as he smiled..._

"Edward?" somebody called out to him from far away.

"Not yet." Edward protested, shifting, trying to hold onto this precious vision but he was already forgetting...

Edward opened his eyes and was once again surprised that no matter which way he looked the world was still submerged in blackness. He wondered irritably to himself if this would ever stop coming as such a surprise.

"Lieutenant, you requested the day in the village." the female voice reminded him. Her voice was heavy with concern and Edward quickly realized he had tears running down his face. He felt a hand come down on his shoulder and a look of disgust flashed across his face. He wrenched his shoulder out of her hand and stared blankly forward. He hated the pity. The never ending bloody pity. He didn't know whether the nurse had gone or not but whatever she thought didn't matter. Today was an important day and he wasn't about to let anyone stand in the way.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Edward made to pull himself to standing but stopped when he heard a familiar gait coming toward him.

"Off to the village then, Lieutenant Courtenay?" Thomas' voice called out.

"That's the general idea." Edward replied gruffly, grasping the edge of the wooden chair next to his bed and pulling himself to his feet. Thomas picked up Edward's cane and handed it to him.

"We've not even finished that letter for you to mail." Thomas said conversationally, and Edward detected the tiniest note of hope in his voice.

"'S fine." Edward replied, propping himself up on his cane. "I have other business to attend to today, Thomas."

"Well, Edward, I came over here to ask you a favour. See, I have some business to attend to in the village and, seeing as you're already headed in that direction, I thought that I made catch the motorcar with you?" Thomas asked. A muscle in Edward's jaw tensed momentarily and if Thomas saw it, he said nothing of it.

Edward couldn't think of a way out of the situation. He had wanted to go to the village alone to attend to something he couldn't while he was sick. It was enormously important and... highly personal. He couldn't have Thomas knowing what he was doing but at the same time, he didn't want to hurt Thomas by saying "no".

"Alright then, Thomas, hurry up." Edward sighed, motioning to his arm for Thomas to take.

* * *

"Thomas, what about your duties?" Edward asked, facing Thomas once they had sat down in the motorcar.

"Oh, they can manage themselves without me for an afternoon, I'd dare say. They're all big boys and girls in there." Thomas replied coolly. Edward heard the familiar click of a lighter followed by a sharp inhale and waited for the smoke to waft by him. The smell of cigarette smoke reminded him now instantly of Thomas.

Edward's brow furrowed as he contemplated what Thomas had just said. A ranking medical officer couldn't simply abandon his post to accompany a patient, even a blinded, crippled patient, into the village. For whatever reason, the thought that Thomas had gone out of his way to schedule time off to be with him both irked and comforted him. On one hand, Edward knew his personal affairs would never be completely personal in the hospital with Thomas around and on the other, nobody had cared so much since... Well. A long time had passed since that time.

Neither Edward nor Thomas were men of many words, so the drive was relatively quiet. Edward found himself acutely aware of every bump and twist in the road found it extremely unsettling. He found it reminded him all too strongly of taking the trucks with his fellow soldiers across Germany. Even now he could hear the dull susurrus of of voices and the sharp smell of blood, sweat and mud as the truckload of men was shipped across Europe. Sitting in the darkness as he did now perpetually, it was easy for him to slip back into wartime reverie without warning. In fact, the most infuriating part of losing his sight was not being able to distract himself by the never-ending loop of horrors playing in his mind. He envied Thomas who seemed to have come out of the war mentally undamaged and who could turn and look out the window and admire the green grass, the blue sky and forget about all the atrocities he saw in the trenches.

Edward would never see anything again but war. His last sighted memories were of the air turning the rotten colour of bile as the Germans advanced toward him in their protective masks. Edward would give anything to get rid of that image. It was the Germans' last laugh; they may have lost the war but they took down so many insane men with them.

It was the motorcar coming jarringly to a halt that shook him from what surely would have been a downward, panicking spiral. The door opened next to him and felt Thomas' hand lightly touch his arm. The gesute knocked the rest of the panic from his system and, slightly reassured, he stepped out onto the road.

"Now, Lieut- Edward. What was it that you needed to do in town?" Thomas asked so lightheartedly as if nothing were the matter in the whole world. Edward noticed Thomas still had a hold on his elbow, but he said nothing of it.

Edward swallowed hard at hearing Thomas' query. He knew what he was supposed to be doing here but he couldn't very well do it with Thomas there. Thomas was his friend, maybe, but he was also an active sergeant in the British army. Nobody could know what he was planning. Especially Thomas.

"I... was intending on spending the day as I usually would back home. Lunch, a glass of wine, a spot of sunshine if the English weather allows it." Edward replied, leaning heavily on his cane and turning his face upwards as if to see if the sun was shining. He had rather been hoping he could make this trip alone but he couldn't say no to Thomas. All the time it had taken to schedule this time off and prove he could make the journey and it was all for naught.

"I should be happy to accompany you?" Thomas stated, phrasing it like a question.

Edward smiled at Thomas' forwardness, "I'd like to remind you, Thomas, that I didn't invite you along."

"Yet here I am." Thomas said confidently.

"You're incorrigible." Edward said, his mood lightening slightly.

"Am I?" Thomas asked, feigning indifference as he lit another cigarette.

"You are. Now if I don't get my glass of wine I'm going to be the incorrigible one." Edward smiled.

* * *

The two soldiers made their way through town stopping occasionally to look in a shop or to take a break at a bench. Edward's limp started to lighten up and for once, Edward didn't have to worry about the gaze of others for he couldn't see them. It was a liberating experience. Coming to the Grantham Arms, they made themselves comfortable at a table by the window. The barmaid paid them little attention other than to take their orders. Edward was grateful for that; he had to admit that he was enjoying Thomas' company as sarcastic and overconfident as he was. He hadn't felt so carefree in months, perhaps years. Two glasses of wine and a plate of meat and cheese between them, Edward felt an altogether unfamiliar sense of comfort spreading within him.

"I should like to do this again." Edward found himself saying as he put his glass down on the table.

"So should I." Thomas replied. Edward couldn't see his face but guessing from his voice, he imagined Thomas was smiling. Edward smiled, too, a large natural grin that spread over his face like the sun after an especially tempestuous storm.

Thomas sat back in his chair, at ease. Edward could feel Thomas' gaze but was oddly comfortable with it. It had been a long time since anyone had taken any sort of interest in him and he appreciated it. A friend was a friend.

The sun was beginning to set as they were leaving and, hearing a train whistle in the distance, Edward turned to face Thomas. His stomach turned as he formulated a sentence.

"Thomas," Edward began, tentatively, stopping in the door frame.

"Yes?" Thomas answered, pressing Edward in the small of the back to keep him moving.

"I... I have a sister coming into town." Edward proceeded, "Only she hasn't the money to pay her way home. I have the money, but I can't go get the ticket by myself. I was going to ask Nurse Crawley to purchase one for me but since we're already in the village..."

The lie tasted bitter in his mouth as he turned away from Thomas. After the lovely afternoon, Edward felt horribly guilty for lying. He knew that Thomas would believe anything he said and this knowledge burned at his conscious like nothing else had. He had, however, come into town for a reason.

"Not a problem. Where to?" Thomas asked.

"To London." Edward muttered, his face turning a deep shade of red as he fished in his pockets for the money he'd set aside all those years ago.

"Again, not a problem. I'll go do that for you. You wait in the motorcar, yes?" Thomas told him. Edward felt Thomas' hand rest on his arm and he chewed the inside of his lip. He listened to Thomas' footsteps crunch away down the path and he turned to get into the car.

He felt like he had just murdered his best friend.


End file.
